Bonne nuit, mon prince
by Tiramisu and coffee
Summary: It seemed like betrayal from Francis' point of view that Arthur left him alone. Human names. AU. FACE family, FrUK. TW: Death


**Good night, my prince**

Pairing; Francis Bonnefoy/Arthur Kirkland

Warnings: Another universe, death

Hetalia is created by Himaruya Hidekazu.

Idea from tags/death

From the story; "And he lowered himself, to kiss Arthur's forehead one last time, touching his beloved's cheek and cried."

Un-beta'ed, plus a little weird (seeing as I was going on little sleep and only coffee)

Word count: 2263

**Good night, my prince**

It was bad. Very, very bad, Francis thought when he badly parked his and Arthur's car in the parking spot right outside of the hospital. He had dreaded this place like fire, but now it was there, towering over him and welcoming him in.

He got out of the car in a hurry, locking the door before running up the pathway to the hospital doors. If he had heard of it earlier! If he could have known about it... he just wanted to get there fast enough, quick enough! He breathed heavily out as he came to the front desk, looking at the nurse behind it.

"S'il vous plaît, mon mari...!" He spoke in French, in panic, as he looked in the eyes of the nurse. She looked up at him, asking him what his husband was named. The relief that filled his heart that someone would know what he said, ran over him.

"Arthur, his name is Arthur Kirkland." Although they had been married for over three years period, the two of them had not given up their surnames for each other, seeing as they had argued about that matter five months before the marriage had taken place. He watched as the nurse looked up with the patient records and gave him instructions towards the room.

He hurried towards the room, trying not to run. His feet felt heavier the closer he got to the room. If only he had gotten the notice much earlier, he could have been there, for him. All he wanted to do was to make his husband well again, look him in the eyes and tell him how much he loved him.

The doctor stood just right outside the room, looking up at him from the papers and held out a hand. "Mister Bonnefoy?" The doctor asked, and Francis could only nod at this, feeling fear creeping up in him. "I would like to have a word."

"My husband..." Francis whispered, looking at the door. The doctor shook her head.

"Not now, they are still tending to him." She showed him to the empty waiting room and made him sit down. "I am sorry that you got here so late," she started, taking a swift look over the medical records of most likely Arthur. "I know that you most likely want to see in on your husband, still..."

"What?" Francis looked at the doctor who looked down at the floor with an apology in written over her face.

"Your husband," she swallowed hard, "didn't make the surgery. He is currently up on machines to keep him living, but you, as his husband, can say good bye to him and we will shut the machines off when you feel for it."

Francis breathed in, his lungs felt like they had frozen up, his heart was beating harshly in his chest and he felt so dizzy, so out of place.

"Il est mort?" He gripped on his knee hard, feeling like he wanted to laugh and cry at the same time. His husband had been this one kind of happiness that could not be replaced, and... Their children, their beloved twins... how would they take it? He breathed out, felt a strange, warm and wet feeling from his eyes. Tears, he was crying. He felt a sudden sadness grip him from inside his chest.

"I want to see him, and... can I call someone first?" The doctor said a small "yes" in answer and gave him a pat on the shoulder before returning back to the room to see on Arthur.

Shaky fingers took up a cell phone from his pocket, dialling to the day-care about getting the two boys to the hospital. He felt a surge of nothingness flow through his body, his hands growing cold as he heard the phone ring. And it rang for good ten seconds before a happy voice called; "_Antonio's!_" and he broke down.

"Antonio, it's me." Francis said slowly, gazing around himself before deciding that his own lap was more of a sufficient place to look at. "You need to get Alfred and Mathieu to the hospital, it's Arthur." He wanted to cry, to sob and hug his loved one, but currently, he was alone and his beloved was... he choked and cried, and made pitiful sounds that he had never known he could make.

"_Wait, wait, Francis – what's happened to Arthur?_" He could hear a shock in his friend's voice, and a pair of curious sounding boys in the background calling out; "_Is it papa you are talking to?_" and "_What is it with daddy? Is he ok?" _He wanted to bury his face in his hands, and at the same time he wanted to hug his children and tell them he loved them very, very much.

"I heard on the phone – about a stroke. They couldn't..." he bit his lips, trying to press out the words, but the tears were falling, and they were so hot and unfamiliar on his cheeks. Right now he wanted the nightmare to be over.

"_We are coming right over! I will just make Lovino take care of the other children, and we will be there; Alfred, Mathieu and me._" Francis smiled through his tears; grateful over his friend's caring. He breathed out a small "thank you", pressing the phone against the ear as he heard the words exchanged between Lovino and Antonio about Arthur.

"_I will be right over!_" and there was a sound of the click and he sat left in the silent room. He breathed out, covered his eyes with his hand, sighing out heavily as he felt each and every sob threatening to press out of his chest.

They had just started their day normally. A kiss on the lips, breakfast shared between four people and the silliness brought up when departing for their jobs, and getting the children to the day-care. He had not known that today it was decided to part them away, their promise to be together to death did them part, was here. It was hovering over him, keeping in a darkened shadow. He did not want to be alone, he did not.

It was too sudden, too... near. He could taste the loneliness in his mouth; he could feel the presence of the death so close onto his heart. Why did it have to become like this, when they had been at their happiest? The suddenness was tearing him apart, making his breath a mess-up, his head a fluster of thoughts.

"Francis!" A voice called out for him, and there he stood; Antonio with Alfred and Mathieu in his arms. The two boys brightened up at the sight of their father, but a sudden change happened upon their faces as they could see him clearly.

"Antonio..." he whispered out, and the children were let down from his friend's arms and ran up to him, looking at him with such innocent, sad eyes.

"Papa, are you ok?" Mathieu asked, touching his cheek with a small hand. He gave them a strained smile and took them both up in his lap to hug them tightly. "What happened, papa?"

He sighed out, breathed in deeply his children's scents and found comfort in it.

"Daddy is sleeping, and we are going to wish him a good night, ok?" He took them out to look at their faces, seeing them confused and worried.

"Sleeping...? But it's midday!" Alfred spoke out loudly, and Francis could only do but hug them again against him, trying to press the sadness out of his chest. He was completely alone with two children and no one was there for him.

"I am so, so sorry..." he sobbed out, and his children hugged him, trying to take away the sadness. Francis felt so hopeless, so lost. He could not do this alone, he was not strong enough. He was not Arthur, who was strong and could be independent if he wanted to.

He looked up at Antonio, who smiled sadly to him, placing a hand on his shoulder. "I am sure he loved you and that the pain wasn't there for long." Francis nodded to this, changing his grip on the children and stood up. "You are strong, Francis, and I know it isn't easy."

Francis spoke a thankful word to his friend, took such careful steps towards Arthur's room. The doctor stood outside and nodded that he could go right in.

Opening the room, he had not expected so many wires and tubes. He felt sick at the sight of Arthur lying there, lifeless, his only life support being a machine. A faint beeping, the sound of the breathing machine making him breath, and he almost lost it.

This was so unfamiliar to him, to see this. He placed his children on the floor, and they ran over to their father; unknowingly looking at him there he was, lifeless.

"Daddy, wake up, please!" Alfred spoke, pleadingly looking at the man who had the image of sleeping. Francis came up to them, held onto their shoulders and felt so lost.

"Père, s'il vous plaît, réveille-toi." Mathieu whispered, touching his father's hand. Trying to hold back his tears now, Francis lowered himself to his children's level.

"You two have to be good now and say your good byes' to him now..." He looked at them and they looked over at him, and Alfred shook his hand, clenching his hands into fits.

"No!" He shouted, punching Francis in the chest, shaking his head, tears falling down. "No! I won't, I won't say it! Daddy has to wake up!" He was choked up, his eyes filled with tears, his cheeks red over the situation.

All Francis wanted to do was to hug his child, tell him that Arthur would wake up, smiling and say; "Got you!" but no, he is sitting there, on his knees, in front of his children. Alfred frustrated and sad, his Mathieu mumbling in French while looking ever so lost and lonely, and all Francis wanted was to remove these feelings, make them smiling – happy.

"I am truly sorry." He says, bowing his head, feeling pathetic over not acting like an adult.

"You mean... he's gone?" Mathieu said quietly to his father, touching his cheek again. Francis nods, slowly. "Forever?"

"Forever." Francis answers and kisses his children's foreheads before standing up again. Alfred cries, clutching to Francis' pant leg, drying his tears against the fabric.

Mathieu stood on his toes, looking at his father with a sad expression on his face and touched the lifeless hand again and whispered to him; "Bonne nuit, père."

Alfred extends his arms up to Francis, asking him to pick him up so he could hug the man known as his dad. Hands under his arms, taken up and taken to the bed, Alfred looks so still, so gone in it. He slowly moves to hug the man and Francis wants Arthur to wake up, to tell them it was a joke... but he does not. His body is lifeless, his eyes are closed and so many tubes and wires connected to him, like he was some kind of an experiment.

Alfred hugs him, long, sobbing over the knowledge that he would not wake up. There was such emptiness in his chest as he looked upon the two of them. Alfred loved that man so much as his father, having found such common interest in most things – they would often find themselves kept up in stories of Britain, about heroes and the smallest element of a princess to rescue. "Thank you, dad." He releases the hug and hops down on the floor, taking a hold onto Mathieu's hand.

"Papa, we will be out in the hallway with Uncle Antonio." Alfred says, tugging his little brother's hand as they walked out of the room, leaving Francis alone with his husband.

There was only him and Arthur, and he could not help but fall on his knees, his arms on the bed and him sobbing.

"No, no, I won't believe it..." he whispered to himself, trying to find himself as he cried. "Why must... why must you leave me? I am not ready to be alone!" He felt nothing, nothing at all but the strange loneliness and betrayal in his heart. He had been so happy, so very happy with Arthur, despite their arguments and silliness. That man had brought so many smiles in the home, so many wishes to fulfil. There was so much missing without him.

His voice had fallen quiet, his living mind was gone and his breathing was a machine. Francis felt the death in the room, suffocating him slowly as he held onto his husband's hand, looking up at his rested face. There was not a smile on his lips, nor was there a frown by his bushy brows – he looked at peace, sleeping.

"I love you so much, I just – I don't know what I should do..." He lowered his head, trying to keep himself from crying anymore. He knew that Arthur would hate those tears.

He stood up, brushed a hand over Arthur's cheek and smiled pitifully to himself. "You are so beautiful, and you were mine, only mine – and now you have been stolen from me." He closed his eyes, felt the coldness of his beloved's skin, and could not stand it anymore. "And now I am letting you sleep."

And he lowered himself, to kiss Arthur's forehead one last time, touching his beloved's cheek and cried.

"Bonne nuit, mon prince."


End file.
